


If I Could Just Have One More Moment

by Krasimer



Series: The Summerhold Chronicles [2]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, I do not make things easy for Maxwell, M/M, Nightmare Throne Wilson, Sad, Shadow King Wilson, falling in love slowly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how many days he counted out, the length of them never changed, the sun never drooping in it's position in the sky. The nights were blessedly short, excluding a few incidents here and there, but for the most part it was all fine.</p><p>It almost made him regret what he had forced Wilson through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dance Like You Are The Only One Around

Standing at the second gate in, he adjusted his sleeves, looking around the new world he had been thrown into.

There were flowers everywhere, not a single flake of snow to be seen, and there were plenty of rabbits. Despite everything he had come to expect of the worlds he was travelling through, it seemed to be the perfect setup for survival. The shadows, cast by the sun that was high in the sky, were waving in an almost friendly manner as they curled around the bases of the trees.

"Well." he muttered, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and pulling down on his waistcoat. "First thing first."

He hummed to himself as he gathered up an armful of flowers, the different colors releasing a perfumed haze of scent whenever he moved. Once he had enough, he sat down in the knee high grass that smelled like summer and wove them together, setting it on his own head when it was finished. There were still a large number of flowers left over when he finished, and he made another one, a faint smile curling up the edges of his lips.

Before he left, he gathered enough grass to make a backpack, dropping the key to the Nightmare Throne inside of it and cushioning it with some more grass. With a deep breath, Maxwell held his head up high, the flower crown on his head waving in the breeze. 

"Well, Higgsbury," he muttered, choosing a direction. "Here I come."

 

As it turned out, survival was easy when it came to the land of perpetual summer.

No matter how many days he counted out, the length of them never changed, the sun never drooping in it's position in the sky. The nights were blessedly short, excluding a few incidents here and there, but for the most part it was all fine.

It almost made him regret what he had forced Wilson through.

Speaking of Wilson, he hadn't seen him anywhere, not even when he passed through the gates. There was a distinct lack of the man anywhere in this world or the last or even in the first. It was as if he had disappeared entirely when he had freed Maxwell from the throne.

Which, actually, he might have.

That was the problem: Maxwell didn't know. Wilson P. Higgsbury could have vanished in a puff of smoke and shadow the moment he was pulled onto the throne, and he wouldn't know about it. Despite everything it had put him through, he sometimes missed the knowledge that came with sitting upon the throne. The second flower crown still sat in his bag, never wilting no matter how hot it got or how long it had been since he had made it.

It seemed that, now the lands were in someone else's hands, things were kinder than they had been. Maxwell was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen that was worse than anything he could have come up with.

What he was getting defied his expectations in a way that confused him.

The shadows around his feet were growing longer with every step he took, and it actually took him a moment to realize it. They were stretching towards a grove of trees up ahead, and he cautiously followed them, a hand on the stone blade he had fashioned. 

At the base of the widest tree was a curled up shape, a pair of small hands clutching at a fall of blonde hair that hid their face.  
There was a flower pinned into their hair, near the front, and beneath that he saw a flash of pink fabric. He stepped on a twig, snapping it, and they jolted upright like they'd been electrocuted. It was a girl, probably about twelve years of age, and she looked up at him with eyes that seemed somehow familiar.

What made Maxwell smile was that she didn't look afraid of him.

"Hello." he greeted, his voice a little hoarse from disuse. "Are you alright?"

She didn't answer, rising to her feet slowly and pulling something from her pocket, offering it forward when he narrowed his eyes at it. With what seemed like exasperation, she trudged forward and took his hand in her own, curling his fingers around whatever it was.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow, uncurling his fingers and looking at what she had forced into his hand. 

It was a pair of glasses, thin wire frames and decently thick glass lenses.

"Oh." he muttered, pulling the corner of his shirt up and cleaning them off before sliding them onto his nose. "Where did you find these?" they fit him, sliding neatly onto his nose and curling around his ears like they belonged there. The impaired vision he hadn't noticed sneaking back up on him was soothed, his eyes functioning nearly perfectly now.

The girl simply stared up at him, eyes wide and almost dead looking.

"Can you speak?" he knelt down to her height, folding his long frame down until he was roughly meeting her eyes on her level. "Or have you lost that ability?"

She frowned, her eyes barely changing with the expression, and mimed writing something. When he didn't respond to that, his thoughts strewn around by the sight of another person, something that only happened when a deal was made, she sighed and pulled a small purse from the hollow of the tree she had been sitting against. A child-sized pencil followed, the tip of it blunted and soft. From inside the purse, she drew a small pad of paper.

'I can't speak.' she wrote, frowning even more as she did so. 'We don't know why, but I just cannot.'

"Well, that's alright then." Maxwell nodded, tapping the paper. "As long as you have paper and something to write with, we can communicate. You can still hear, so I imagine that that will be useful."

'Why do you think of people as useful?' she scribbled out, lips pursed. 'You seem like you've forgotten how to talk to people.'

"I may very well have," he admitted quietly. "What's your name?"

'Wilhelmina', she wrote out carefully, a small smile replacing her unhappy expression. 'But my father calls me Wendy'.

"...You mentioned a 'we' when you said you didn't know why you couldn't speak." Maxwell frowned. "Why did you mean when you- Wait, what are you writing now?"

The paper was pushed towards him, small hands grasping the edges of it with white knuckles. 'I meant Wilson. He sent me here with the glasses, and he told me to tell you my name, and he also mentioned another thing.'

"What other thing?"

Wendy looked up at him, her eyes somewhat wider than before. Without writing anything else, she flipped the note pad over. 

Her name, in thick lettering, written in black ink, was displayed clearly.

**'Wendy Carter.'**

Maxwell threw himself backwards, landing on his backside in the grass a few feet away. 

Watching with her wide eyes, Wendy cocked her head at an angle, then flipped to a page in the note pad and scribbled something there, hand moving quickly as she jotted out her precise lettering. When she finished, she stepped carefully through the grass, coming to a stop at his side and plopping down next to him. 'Mister Wilson said that it was important you knew my name, but he wouldn't tell me why.'

Cursing the man in his mind, he nodded. "Wilson knows many things, and now that he sits on the throne, he knows even more." he sat up, brushing himself off quickly and rearranging his glasses. Strange, he thought, how rapidly one gets used to these things again. "I would not put it past him to have knowledge of who I used to be."

Wendy simply raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Maxwell was a stage name of a magician." he explained, his hands folding together in his lap. "My name, before that, before I made a deal with the throne, was William Carter."

With a bright smile, Wendy tapped her own nose. 

"Yes, like your name." he sighed. "I- Is your father a man named Jack Carter?"

She nodded, pulling all of her hair over one shoulder and combing her fingers through it. 

Maxwell closed his eyes, ignoring the urge to curse loud and long until something changed. "Then it is my belief that you are my niece. I was told, however, that my brother had a set of twin girls."

Wendy's spine stiffened, and she looked somewhere back over her shoulder. When she turned around again, it was with a confused expression on her face. The writing pad was pulled back up and she scribbled something else into it. 'You mean you can't see her?'

Looking over her shoulder, Maxwell blinked a couple of times, peering into the shadows of the grove of trees. Faintly, he could see a blurred outline, something that may have looked human once, a long time ago. "I can if I focus." he told her, eyes narrowing as he tried to stay focused. "What happened?"

'I don't remember.' she handed him the note this time, standing up and reaching a hand out to the glimmering shape in the darkness. There was contact, for a second, before her fingers slipped through.

When he stood, she slipped her hand into his, the note pad tucked safely back into her little purse and the pencil tucked behind her ear. 

It was starting to get dark, Maxwell realized when they left the grove of trees. Wendy's hand was still wrapped in his, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rising inside of him. She was small, a delicate thing that needed to be sheltered in a world that was routinely unfair.

Even with Wilson on the throne, things were still dangerous. 

With his glasses back, he could see the shadows and shapes of the world around him again. His vision had been degrading back to how it was before so slowly that he hadn't even noticed.

At his side, Wendy skipped along, her movements practical in that they kept her moving at the same pace as him. His legs were much longer than hers, and every step he took resulted in her taking three. As they made their way together, back towards the small camp he had set up, she gazed around the landscape like it held secrets that she wanted to pry from it.

She was his niece, alright.

 

Once back at camp, she settled down near where he had made his resting spot.

Unsure of what to say, Maxwell simply watched her, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. An unexpected child to care for, to make sure that his remaining beasts did not destroy...

It wasn't the worst of the possibilities.

Especially since, after his disconnect from the real world, he had lost almost all track of his brother.

'Almost' was only because of a letter that had somehow found it's way down to him after what seemed like an eternity in the realm of shadows. It had mentioned twins, their mother, the move to America...Whatever else had been mentioned, he didn't remember.

Based on the letter, and based on how old Wendy seemed to be, it must have been at least twelve years past, by now.

Funny, he thought, how much time has passed down here.

Wendy looked up at him, her eyes wide, then nodded. The pad of paper was out again, held up for him to read. 'Mister Wilson wants you to know you're going to be safe.' it read, her neat letters stark against the white paper.

"Perhaps he could tell me that himself?" Maxwell sighed as he lowered himself into the seat he had created next to where his fire was. "I have yet to see him here. I was beginning to wonder if I ever would." he watched as she took the paper back, writing something else. "It is a difficult habit to break, watching over my shoulder at every chance to see if those keeping the King bound to the board were observing. I was sure they might have taken him away when he replaced me."

Wendy's hand paused, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she shifted, crossing her ankles. After a moment, she scratched something out, then wrote something else. 'You're two gates in, and he replaced you. Why?'

"Why are you asking me why?" Maxwell countered, watching her hand move again as she continued writing. 

'Why are you heading back down to the deepest levels if he freed you?' there was space between that line and the next. 'He replaced you, made it so that you could leave. Why come back?'

"...I don't know." 

'I think you do.' Wendy shook her head, meeting his eyes. Hers were almost the same as the glow of the ghost that hovered behind her.

Maxwell's frown deepened. "You are a child, how about you let the adult try to figure out his own mind? You may find that it is a better tactic in the long run." he sighed again, covering his face before turning away to work on getting the fire started. 

'I'm not sure I am a child.' she showed him the paper again, leaning around the building fire. The streaks of sunset were painting the sky, the shadows were long, and the breeze was dying down. With another look at her face, Maxwell raised an eyebrow. Wendy stared back, her eyes wide and her mouth set in something that resembled a smile in the same way a bird of prey resembled a butterfly.

With a shiver, Maxwell leaned back from her. "Then what are you?"

"We think she might be asleep." 

Somehow, with great thanks to whatever forces might be listening, Maxwell didn't fall into the fire at the sudden appearance of the man he had been working his way towards. "Well, Higgsbury, how is it that you are suddenly here?"

Wilson, eyes black and dressed in a suit that seemed to be a combination of his own and Maxwell's previous one, sat on the ground next to him, smiling up at the taller man. "I needed an anchor to your location to stay in one place. I have not, as of yet, mastered the powers that come with ruling." with a roll of his shoulders, he slid his coat off and offered it to Wendy. "Here."

Looking at his niece, Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Higgsbury-"

"When she's near me, I think it might be a little too much. She starts shivering. There's no need to defend her honor from me, Maxwell." Wilson cut him off before he could reprimand the smaller man. "It's either too much of the real world, or too much of a reminder that she isn't meant to be here."

"Haven't figured it out yet?" 

Chuckling, Wilson shook his head. The black tips of his nails drew Maxwell's attention, clattering on the small pile of wood that sat next to the campfire. "As far as I can tell, she's in a comatose state. She has expressed frustration with looking like a child in this world."

"I would be frustrated as well." Maxwell remarked, standing slowly. "I wish to speak with you. Wendy, would you mind staying here for a few minutes?"

She shook her head and waved them away.

As they wandered into the woods, Wilson hummed something quietly. The ice that had fueled Maxwell was gone, replaced by a summery heat that seemed to flow off his skin. "You seem to be getting along with your niece quite well." Wilson remarked once they were deeper into the trees. 

"I have rarely had the opportunity for family." Maxwell answered shortly, his hands resting in his pockets. Wilson's were clasped behind his back, his posture returned to how it had been before he set foot in the world of shadows. "I can say that I see it as somewhat of a blessing. To know how things fared for my brother...It is a relief."

Wilson nodded. "Why are you still here?"

"I do not know." Maxwell eyed him carefully, lips twisted in an expression of discontent. "After all of the talk of being the better man, of me going wrong because I had no one to stop me, you ask me why I'm still here, as if you want me to leave you here alone."

"I do not want to be alone, but I do not wish for you to spend the entirety of your life here." Wilson hedged, his eyes focused on the taller man's face. 

"If the appearance of my niece is to be believed, my time is already over." Maxwell countered, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets. With his glasses returned to him and the loss of the throne, he seemed more like the man he had been before.

"You still have spent so long here..." Wilson's hands tightened as well, claws digging into the pale flesh of his palms. "Do you know what year the world rests in, outside of this domain?"

"No, I do not." Maxwell sighed. "I was entirely too focused on y- On other things, to be aware of such information. Besides, knowledge was not my gain in the deal I made." he cleared his throat, an awkward flush of color making itself known on his face. 

Wilson nodded, tilting his head at the pause. "Speaking of deals, I found- There was someone I found when I started gaining full control of things, after I dropped you outside the first gate. If I recall correctly, I saw that same someone when you were in charge and I had forgotten to stay within the reaches of the light I created."

Maxwell's head jerked around to look at the smaller man so fast that his neck may very well have snapped. "What? What did you do to her?"

"Nothing." Wilson let his hands loose, placing a calming one on Maxwell's shoulder. "I have done nothing to her, I left her be. I just wanted to- Well, it's a toss up between whether this is a warning or me informing you that she's alright." he sighed. "Maxwell, she isn't doing well in the slightest. There's so little of her left that, all she is, is shadow and insanity."

"You are not to harm her." Maxwell warned, leaning in close to the current Demon King of Shadows, their noses almost touching. "If you do, I'll-"

"There is nothing left to harm, Maxwell." Wilson shook his head. "You wanted power and magic. I asked for knowledge. As far as I can tell, these things increase tenfold when you take the throne. I know little of who she was as seen through your eyes, but I know that she, if there's anything left of who she was, is likely hating her current existence."

"Hig- Wil-" Maxwell made a soft choking noise. "Please."

Taking the man's face in both of his hands, Wilson nodded. "Do you want to see her?"

"Please." Maxwell said again, his hands curling gently around Wilson's wrists. "Please." he was halfway sobbing now, his shoulders shaking as he folded inwards, all the strength he once possessed leaving him. 

Wilson searched his face for a moment, then nodded again. When Maxwell opened his eyes once more, they were back by the fire, Wilson saying something to Wendy. The girl nodded, and then the shadows enveloped them again, whisking them off to some unknown destination. 

When they stopped moving, Maxwell almost slumped against Wilson, his longs legs providing a long fall to the ground.

"Stay here for a moment, alright?" Wilson went down with him, guiding him to a position that wouldn't make his entire body ache. If he could have, Maxwell would have thanked him, but his lips were trembling and his entire body was shaking and he just didn't have it within him right then.

The smaller man wandered off, but the glow of light he carried with him stayed behind.

Within the circle of light, Maxwell could see the creatures that scurried around, just beyond. He'd never been this close to them without any power over them before, and it made him a little nervous. When one stopped, just short of touching him, he reached out a hand. The hound sniffed at it, then gave his palm a lick before moving on. 

Hearing footsteps, he sighed. "A new ruler and suddenly not a one of them is as bloodthirsty as I made them be."

"Well," Wilson spoke softly. "I wouldn't think so, not when they're not being encouraged to it. They are not naturally fearsome beasts." he cleared his throat quietly. "Maxwell?"

The taller man finally looked up, his eyes wide when they settled on the being just behind Wilson. For the most part, she was made of shadows, her gangly limbs a grim parody of the shapely body that had been hers before. Her legs were entirely faded away into a dark mist, several more limbs of the same fog sprouting from her back. Her hair, once blonde and bright, was now a disconcerting red, as if the strands had been dipped in blood.

Sadly, that was the only color to her now. Even her skin, porcelain and pale, was a dusk colored oddity.

"Charlie." Maxwell swallowed, his adams apple bobbing in his throat. 

The night monster, the Grue, the terror that had haunted an unknown number of people, slinked forward, her entire body moving smoothly through the shadows. Her grin was almost as bright as the moon that gave the were creatures reason to shift. She stuttered out a few syllables, bloodied drool dripping through her teeth as she moved closer.

"M-m-ma-" she rattled, her voice like a car engine refusing to start. "-We-w-w-well."

When he looked to Wilson, the man nodded. "I told you there was so little of her left." he whispered, biting his bottom lip. "Perhaps I should not have brought her to see you, or you to see her."

"No," Maxwell shook his head. "I wanted to say goodbye."

He turned back to her, reaching a cautious hand out, like he had with the hound. "Oh, my dear Charlie." he muttered, allowing one of her shadowy limbs to wrap around his hand, no fear in his eyes as he waited. "I am so sorry for what was done to you, for what I did to you."

Her grin faltered a bit as she leaned closer, almost all of her kept at bay by the light. 

"I wish we could have had more time together," he blinked, then nodded. "I wish we could have performed for years, we would have been fantastic. You always did look lovely, and you were born to be on stage. I just wish I could have kept you there. Instead, my idiocy led us here, and you to your death. And then I made things worse by-" he cut off, a small sob falling from his lips. "I tried to bring you back and all I did was make it worse."

She croaked, a few sounds that were almost words, then dragged him further into the shadows. With a little more room allowed, she wrapped her arms around him, the shadows shifting until she was the right height in comparison to him. 

"W-w-w-w-wi-yum." she managed, her hair dissolving into shadows as she pulled back and looked up into his face. "Wi-yum." With a single nod and a few more clicking sounds, she curled back up against his chest. His hands found her shoulders, pulling her a few scant inches closer, one sliding up to land hesitantly in her hair. 

"I am so sorry, my dear Charlotte." he whispered, kissing the top of her head. There were tears running down his cheeks and his eyes closed slowly. "I wish that I could fix this, Charlie. But I tried that, and all I did was ruin everything."

By the time they pulled apart again, Charlie's grin was entirely gone, spots of light appearing where her eyes should have been. A clawed hand landed on his cheek.

"Wi-yum." she spoke, a hint of scolding in her tone. 

Maxwell nodded, a sound bursting from him that sounded like laughter and sobbing all at once. "Charlie. Charlie and William."

Her thumb traveled over to the tip of his nose, tapping it twice before her hand fell away. "Good Wi-yum." she shuddered, her version of a sob, then nodded once more. "Good. Not bad." she frowned, her teeth reappearing for a second. "Notbad. Notbad, Wi-yum!"

"I will try to remember that, this time." he whispered, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. "Goodbye, Charlie."

With one last nod, she let go of him, allowing him to step back into the light. When she turned to Wilson, the shorter man held out a hand, taking her clawed fingers within his own and smiling. Maxwell closed his eyes, shoving his glasses to the top of his head as he dug his palms into them.

It was a few seconds later that Wilson put a hand on his shoulder. "She's gone now."

"Good. It wasn't right for her to be here anyways." Maxwell didn't uncover his face. "I messed up in a way that she should not have forgiven me for."

Wilson's hands were on both his shoulders now. "I am a bit surprised, I must admit. You went through that entire encounter while sitting on the ground. You even allowed her to drag you through the dirt while sitting down."

Maxwell grumbled something, the pressure on his eyes growing heavier.

"The shadows that formed her...When they separated, they dropped something. I don't know if you want it or if you would like to never see it, but I have it safe." he slid the hand that was on the taller man's right shoulder down a bit, allowing the feeling of his curled up fingers to register. 

Finally, Maxwell's hands dropped and he opened his eyes. Taking a moment to readjust his glasses, he fixed his gaze on the other man. "Yes?"

Wilson opened his hand to reveal a ring on a chain. 

"...I would like to keep that." Maxwell's eyes were pinned to it now, his hands latching on to the fabric of his pants and going so tight that his knuckles were bloodless. 

"Was this an engagement ring?"

"What, does it surprise you?"

Wilson shook his head, transferring the ring and chain carefully into the man's hand. "Why would it surprise me?"

"I had hoped, foolishly, that one day we could be married and I would be a great magician." Maxwell sighed. "We were going to tour the world, and she was going to be my wife. It was a hope I had, and I always knew it was in vain, but I wished for it desperately." he unclasped the chain, putting it around his own neck. 

Nodding, Wilson stood and held out a hand. "We should get back to Wendy before the sun rises."

"Rises?"

"We have been here all night." Wilson pointed out as he helped Maxwell to his feet. "And you should get some sleep if you are going to insist on wandering through the gates to find my actual body again."

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Not going to bother stopping me?"

"Why would I? I suspect that you do not want the throne back, otherwise you would be plotting. You don't seem to want me dead now that you're not sitting on it." Wilson gazed up at him. "Honestly, I'm at a loss as to why you want to make it through to the under realms once more."

"Perhaps, Higgsbury, some of us want to find a way to destroy the damned thing." Maxwell smirked, a thin veneer of armor against the world. "And perhaps some of us think it unfair that you are stuck there in my place."

Wilson, with a soft curve at the corner of his lips, put both of his hands over Maxwell's eyes. 

"Thank you." he whispered.

When the taller man could see again, he was back at the campsite, the fire crackling merrily and no current shadow king in sight. With a sigh, he trundled over to his bed and crouched down, then lay back. His hands settled on his stomach as he looked up at the remaining stars, a frown on his face. "I have said it before, Wilson. You have ruined me."

As if in reminder, the shadows that the fire cast grew longer, one of them lifting slowly off the ground and curling around the toe of his shoe. 

"As you said, we have ruined each other." Maxwell frowned. "What does that mean on your end?"

There was no answer, not even from the shadows or their movement. 

 

A couple of weeks passed with Maxwell and Wendy surviving together.

Every morning, they woke up. They ate, they gathered what they would need for the day, they collected more supplies, and then they retired for the evening. It was a quickly established pattern, and not once did they make any more progress towards the gate that would take them down to the next layer of the world. If someone had asked him why not, Maxwell would have frowned and shaken his head.

In truth, he was afraid of what would happen to Wendy. 

If the girl really was in a comatose state in the real world, then might it be possible for her descent into this one to trap her? Surely, if they progressed, then she might never wake in the real world again. Based on what little recollection of memories she was able to share with him, he knew she needed to go back at some point.

He might need to spend the rest of his existence down here, but she didn't.

'Have you given up on the gates?' was the paper pushed into his line of sight one evening. The fire was radiating enough heat for their dinner to fry, and light enough to see her careful scrawl.

"I have not." Maxwell assured her, a gentle hand pushing her notebook away. "But I fear for your safety if you continue on with me. And, before you can think of it, I will not leave you behind. Such a thing is unfathomable to me."

Wendy tilted her head to the side, then wrote something else. 'You would have gladly done so before. Mister Higgsbury has been telling me stories of what you were like.'

"I would like to think I am a changed man, in some respects." Maxwell prodded a log closer to the center of the fire, a stream of sparks and ash floating up into the darkening sky. "I would not say I am completely good, but I would like to think that I am doing my best to change my ways."

Her eyes the same as ever, blank and wide, seemed to focus on him. 'You seem so disconnected, uncle.'

"I am worried."

'Why?'

When his dark eyes met her empty ones, he swallowed, his lips pursing into a concerned frown. "There are those, my dear, who would likely love to see me in pain. I have not a single doubt that the ones I made my own deal with are seeking to destroy me for managing to slip out of their grasp."

'You weren't supposed to be able to leave the throne?'

"No, I was not." he prodded another log, watching the resulting sparks with a small smile. "Which is why I was so surprised that Wilson managed to replace me on the throne."

'Is part of your worry that they will find you?' She held the notebook up, tapping the word 'They' for emphasis. A small shudder rocked Maxwell's body as he nodded, the sensation of being watched settling in like a bullet between his shoulder-blades. 

He stood, then circled around the fire towards her, kneeling down and placing his hands on her shoulders. "Yes. These days, however, my worry is not for myself. You are, thus far, free from their machinations. You have not struck a deal, you have not bound yourself to this playing board. If they were to find you, I fear what your fate would be."

A sound like a snapping branch dragged their attention towards the darkness beyond their camp. 

"...There should still be some daylight left." Maxwell frowned as he curled Wendy protectively closer. "It was not much, but there should still be some light." when he looked around again, focusing on where he had last seen the sun, the sky was darker than he had ever seen it. 

Unless, of course, he counted the moment he took control for the first time.

"Wendy, can you make two torches and hold them both by yourself for a moment?" he whispered, a hand still on her shoulder. The darkness seemed to ripple at his words, like it was planning on swallowing them whole. Maxwell turned to face it as Wendy focused on the fire, pulling together two torches and lighting them both. With a little more light spread out towards the edges of their camp, Maxwell could see eyes in the darkness.

They were large, probably about the size of his fist, and they shifted around the inky blackness as if they were free of any tether such as anatomy.

"You are not coming anywhere near here," Maxwell tilted his chin up, swallowing his nerves down. "I will not let you, not if I have any say in the matter." he held a hand out for one of the torches, then took Wendy's hand in his other. She was still so small compared to him, and though she was voiceless, she had no problem making herself heard. 

Wendy Carter, he thought, bold and brave. 

With that, he held the torch up high and sprinted through the darkness, his fingers clenching his niece's tightly. The darkness itself seemed to howl, and when he glanced over his shoulder to see what lay behind, the camp they had spent the weeks in had vanished from sight.

Claws reached out from the darkness, snagging on his clothes and her hair, as if to pull them from the portable sources of light and trap them forever. 

With no sense of direction, not even up and down, William held the torch forward from himself, as if he were stabbing at the darkness with it. "You will not keep us here!" he hissed the words, almost unsure if he actually managed to speak. Gritting his teeth, he tucked his head in, his movements halting as he tugged Wendy against his side and crouched down to curl her head in under his. 

A faint roaring echoed in the distance, and then the darkness was gone.

Blinking, Wendy tugged on her uncle's shirt until he looked up. The sun was now out, their torches extinguished, and there was a light rain pattering against the ground. William looked around, then pulled back so that he could see Wendy's face. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, then held up her hands. The tips of her fingers were gone, like an unfinished drawing, the edges ragged in a hazy way that seemed somewhat dream-like. 

"Oh." William took her hands in his own, the torches down on the ground and all but forgotten. "Oh my dear, it seems your time is up." he met her eyes, slightly startled by the appearance of pupils. They were a deep blue, and they served to make one thing apparent: She was fading out of the world of shadows. He could see the ground behind her through her eyes.

With a panicked little breath, she pulled her notebook from her purse and shoved it against his chest, then wrapped her arms around his neck. Holding him tightly, Wendy shook her head, her little arms shaking as she tried not to cry.

"I-" William pressed a kiss to the hair above her ear, behind the flower she had insisted on wearing. "I will miss you, but it is probably for the best."

She shook her head again, pulling back so she could meet his eyes. Silent streams of tears flowed down her cheeks, an angry frown that bared her teeth twisting her face. Carefully, she mouthed something that made his heart ache in his chest. _'I don't want to!'_ she sobbed, her entire body shaking. _'I just met you, and I don't want to leave yet!'_

"You have to." he whispered, attempting to soothe her. His fingers combed through her hair, carefully curving around the flower. "You need to wake up. From what you've told me, from the memories you have managed to hold on to, you have a husband. You are not the little girl you appear to be in this world, this is a state you've reverted to." he sighed, then cradled a hand underneath her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Wilhelmina Carter, you need to return to the life you're supposed to be living out in the real world. My time is far past, if I am to be quite honest."

Wendy shook her head again, her hair flying with the force of it.

"Yes, my dear." William frowned. "I wish I could have been around for you, to watch you grow up and to meet your sister before her untimely passing. I- You have no idea how much I wish I could have been there." he sobered slightly, then nodded. "I should have died long ago, the only reason I am still around is because I sat on the Nightmare Throne for so long."

Her hands clenched tightly in the fabric that formed the collar of his shirt, small fingers curling under it, as if that would keep her from being separated from him. It was, however, too late. Her hands were vanishing before her eyes, and no amount of tears would stop the process of her waking up.

"You must be strong," William whispered, pulling back and untangling her grasp. He swallowed a low noise of horror at the sight of her hands, then managed a smile. "The world is harsh, and you'll get nowhere in it by running from your problems." he nodded once more, eyes fractionally wider. Her entire form was spectral, almost matching what little he could see of her sister. "I suppose that is a lesson I should have learned long, long ago."

William kissed her forehead, a hand cupping the back of her head, then pulled away and stood up. The notebook fell to the ground and he scooped it up before any damage could occur. 

With a small noise, Wilhelmina Carter left the shadow lands, the only proof of her ever being there a notebook with ragged edges and page upon page of her handwriting. Her sister trailed behind for a few moments, floating closer to her uncle. "You too, Abigail. Neither of you belong here, not even with Death having relieved you of a body."

The ghost flickered once, then twice, then vanished.

Now that they were gone, William could see his way back to the campsite, having moved only fifty or so feet from it. With a resigned sigh, he carefully tucked his niece's notebook into his pocket, trudging along through the wet grass until he came to a stop next to his bedroll. "Wilson," he whispered, kneeling to pack some things into a bag made of woven grass and bits of leather that he had managed to procure from hunting some of the odd creatures down. "If you can hear me, I am heading for the next gate now."

The two flower crowns were pulled from the bag, still somehow not wilted in the slightest, and he set them down next to the cold fire pit. "I do not expect you to be happy with my decision, but I do expect you to allow it."

Pausing to sweep some of his hair out of his face, the lines now obvious around his mouth and eyes, William Carter sighed again. "I will find a way to get us both out of here, even if it destroys me in the end. This is a land of cruelty and hatred, and I should never have made a deal to bring either of us here." he slid a hand into his pocket, retrieving the bound-together pages of a girl's handwriting, then tucked it into his waistcoat, against his chest. 

Not saying another word, he turned his back on the camp and walked away, shouldering the bag and pulling the stone blade from it once it was settled. 

When he had awoken the first time, pulled from the throne, he had already had a bag of items, all but three of them now discarded. He had held onto the Codex Umbra and the Dark Sword, the purple gem tucked away in the bottom of his bag. The stone blade that he had crafted was thrown far into the bushes, an angry glint in his eyes as he forged onwards. The Dark Sword was pulled out next, a tight fist wrapping around the hilt of it. His knuckles were white, his lips drawn in a frightening scowl.

William pointed the tip of the blade down, breathing heavily through his nose. "I have met and lost my niece. I had to say goodbye to what little remained of my first love." he could have passed for a dragon in the moment he said this, nostrils flaring angrily. "I will not be forced to do the same to my second."

Shadows sprang up behind him, cast from nothing as he followed a trail he hadn't let himself know until his niece was gone. "And I will not leave you here." he hissed the words out, pure rage shining in his eyes. 

"I may not have seen you in the time since we last spoke, but I will not leave you here."


	2. Take This Chance To Set Me Free

This was, William decided, entirely too much like chess.

With every move he made, whatever it was that bound the King to the Board made a move as well. Every action had a counter action, and he was getting tired of it. Fighting back exhausted him, but he could not give up. Somewhere at the end of this road lay a scientist that he had grown inordinately fond of.

He had been witness to so much loss, he would not let this person slip away as well.

He couldn't.

With a sigh, William took another look around him. This morning, upon waking up, he had been surrounded by marsh and beasts that seemed to want nothing more than his flesh in an easy to chew strip. When he had fallen asleep the night before, it had been a clear field, and he had slept with the curve of a cave surrounding him. The safety of the formation was no more, replaced by deadly things that wanted him gone but were not intelligent enough to realize he was attempting that.

Scrabbling for a hold that wouldn't send him to the ground below, William adjusted himself in the tree he had taken shelter in. "Beast," he hissed down to the Tallbird that was thankfully not of a size to reach him. "Flee from here, before you anger me."

It was an almost empty threat and it made a clucking sound that seemed to mock him, as if it knew that.

"Oh, to hell with this." he snarled, sliding the Codex Umbra out of his bag and paging through it until he found what he was looking for. With a deep breath, bracing himself with his legs, he started chanting.

It was quiet at first, a whisper of a desperate man who half believed it wouldn't work.

As he felt the power taking hold, his voice grew stronger, more assured of what he was doing. When the Tallbird started squawking in fear, he grinned, a feral expression that drew his countenance back towards Maxwell. The divide between who he had been and who he was was startling in it's vastness, but with each breath it grew smaller. Maxwell was William was Maxwell. A riddle in itself, an enigma and a mystery all at once.

Whatever else happened, he would not give up, not even with Tallbirds and Pig men threatening his life.

There would be no game, he decided as he watched his current attacker thrust fruitlessly at his summoned shadow selves. If those in charge were lucky, he'd simply take Wilson from their grasp and leave. It was a different chess maneuver, one that he had always found to be lacking in subtlety.

Sometimes, however, subtlety was not what was required.

William smirked as he watched the Tallbird fall. Flipping the Board was always a satisfying method, even if it did not technically count as winning. He had done enough to see the moves from their side of things, he was done playing by their rules.

He had played long enough, he would not lose again.

 

_-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-_

 

The Throne Room was dark, even darker than it had even been before Maxwell had been freed from it.

This far back, Wilson mused, the lights won't even reach me if someone were to wake them up. The spiked claws that held the back of the throne at an angle were digging in precariously above his head, small shards of shadow falling to land in his hair whenever they moved. The Creature they were attached to was enormous, a single hand wider than the throne and about as tall, skin made of shadow but somehow tougher than leather.

The aura seeping off of it made his mind reel, a mixture of fear and intense hatred for what this thing meant.

This was what Max-

This was what William had been afraid of. This Creature of shadow and anger, this was the thing that had pulled him out of his life before and made a deal with him? This was the thing that murdered a young woman and made a man so desperate as to wish her back to life?

Even without confirmation, Wilson knew.

"If you want to curse me," a rusty sounding voice echoed through the cavern, claws ticking impatiently against the seat that held Wilson. "I would not blame you. Just know that it would not help." a different sound followed and it took him a moment to realize that it was probably what it deemed laughter to be. "Little Gentleman Scientist, greedy for knowledge of things beyond his reach. Desperate for a way to be noticed in the world, for people to understand that he was a genius!" it made the sound again and Wilson shrugged his shoulders up until he could block his ears somewhat.

It sounded like metal scraping against metal against flesh.

"I was never-" he swallowed against the fear building back up in his throat. "I was never desperate."

"Yes you were." it hissed, a pleased sound surrounding the words. It was, after all, the first time he had spoken up since it had dragged the entire throne backwards about a hundred yards, trees breaking and rocks flying up out of view. "Like a dog, begging for scraps, and you wanted everyone to notice you, you little limp wristed nancy boy." a shiver tore through him as the voice grew closer, the all encompassing bellow of it lowering down to a harsh whisper. "From the boy next door growing up to the man who approved of your work in school, you begged for their attention like a bitch in heat."

Wilson swallowed again, fighting down the rush of shame as he averted his eyes. It wasn't like there was anything to avert his eyes from, but it made him feel as if he'd gained a little more ground against the Beast above him. "Stop it." he hissed back, feeling the burn of tears at the back of his eyes.

"Even the King of this world." it laughed once more, another set of claws forming out of the darkness near his head. One of them, the tip glinting dangerously in what little light he had managed to bring into the room with him, caught under his chin and dragged him ruthlessly sideways. "Even with the King of this world trying to destroy you, you spared his life when you took over, pining for even more attention that you were never deserving of." the ground shook as the thing shifted, the throne tilting back even more. All he could see was the darkness that was overhead. "You pathetic waste of flesh, he'll never look at you like that. He's still too caught up on the girl, and you have never had a chance."

Straight backed and silent, Wilson did his best to go back to ignoring it.

He focused instead on the world beyond, the real world that Wendy had belonged to. If he and William had the chance to talk once more, then he would divulge the information he had. His deal had been for knowledge, for information about all things.

Taking a deep breath, Wilson forced himself to ignore the rantings of the beast that surrounded him in darkness.  
The world that Wendy had returned to.

If he remembered correctly, his house had been fairly modest: two stories tall, filled with experiments of various and often odd natures, empty of any living soul but himself. How was he going to explain to the other man that it had been more than eighty years since the original deal that had brought Wilson into his world?

How was he going to explain that it had been more than a century since William's original deal?

A jolting shudder shook the throne and he closed his eyes, praying that the sudden motions did not make him sick. The Creature was howling now, a constant stream of noise, as if it were trying to block something out. As if there were some sound in the darkness that it did not approve of.

...As if-

It had to take a breath sometime.

When it did, Wilson nearly started sobbing at what he heard: Plain as day, the angry whisper of one William Carter, the words loud enough to be heard but only just. 'And I will not leave you here' he promised, the tone sounding soothing but the words assuring damage to whoever intended to attempt to alter his path.

Feeling like a weight had been lifted off of his chest, Wilson nodded, his eyes closing again as he hummed something to himself. 

"LISTEN TO ME!" the beast screamed the words, louder than a hurricane and more dangerous than anything else he had ever faced. "LISTEN TO ME OR PERISH IN MY GRASP, YOU ACHINGLY DESPERATE LITTLE WHO-"

"No."

There was a pause, like it couldn't believe what it had just heard. Before it could respond in any other way, Wilson tilted his head back and opened his eyes. They were black, almost completely, except for a ring of white around the edges. His nails, previously short and human and ragged, turned into the black tipped claws that his projection as the King had. "I said no, don't ask me to say it again. I know you heard what I said, I know you know what it means. I will not listen to you, because you are going against all possible logic."

"No-"

"That would be what I said, yes." Wilson gave a little shake of his chin. "I am not going to sit here and listen to you berate me with my own fears, pulled straight from my mind and thrown back at me. I will not tolerate you taking my demons and making them your own for the sake of breaking me. I will not allow it." he tilted his head back, eyes cold as he studied what little he could see of it. "You are not the thing to be afraid of."

There was a pregnant pause, the downfall of a thousand worlds waiting for the next word.

"I am not," it agreed, voice much more calm than before. "But I do not think you want to meet the real thing to fear in the dark. I can guarantee, you won't like him. I know he won't like you." There was suddenly light in all directions, exposing a slick looking substance on the walls of the cavern. For a second, Wilson was able to see something scurrying over it, and then the light was re-focused. When his eyes adjusted, the light was held in a ball between him and-

It was another version of him.

"I find it actually very amusing that you would say I do not get to hold onto your demons," the other-Wilson smirked, an expression that looked entirely too much like Maxwell. "When I look so very much like you. I hold some of the same powers as you, and you've known me all your life."

"...Who are you?" Wilson eyed it nervously, hands clutching the arms of the throne. 

"I am your shadow, pal." it hissed that last word, then shook it's head. "Sorry, so sorry. Still adjusting the differences. When a new king is chosen, the old king's shadow stays put, becoming part of the new one. The shadow has a job to do, acting as an adviser and a warning." the smirk grew wider as Wilson frowned. "If it is decided that the King is acting too free spirited, then it is the shadow's job to teach him or her a lesson. We strip away what is human, until there's nothing left."

A memory, made faint with worry and all at once sharp with terror, floated to the front of Wilson's mind. He had entered the fourth gate, had picked himself up off the ground in time to see Maxwell.

The man had not looked good.

His back had been hunched, a forced deformity, and his hands had been little more than curled up useless claws. Every single feature that he could connect to Maxwell had all but disappeared, the man's skin turning an ashy grey, like the skin of a corpse. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," his shadow seemed to take a deep breath. "That William Carter is in danger."

 

_-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-_

 

The Dark Sword, as it turned out, seemed to actually do more good than damage.

William could feel it prying into his mind, pulling out the worst bits like jewel toned seeds from the center of the pomegranate that doomed Persephone. It whispered to him, a dark muttering that he remembered from his time on the throne, an urgent murmur that all but begged him to cause destruction and chaos, to find some person that had not yet been tainted by these lands and pull them apart.

He shivered as he let the voice wash over him, not letting his steps falter. 

It could distract him, it could lie to him and it could try to bring him to ruin, but he could not let it destroy him or make him stop entirely. There was too much dependent on him, the safety of a far better man than him hanging on the thin wire that stretched between two points.

Like an acrobatics act that had been part of the circus...

A shiver tore through him, nearly sending him to the ground. "No." he hissed the word, forcing his feet to keep moving. Memories of the troop he had traveled with would not halt him, not now.

The treacherous terrain he had woken up in unexpectedly was far behind him now, and the road ahead narrowed to a single path between two cliffs. The only trouble, as far as he could see, were two figures blocking it, one of them a large man with a rolled down unitard and the other a pale man in a black and white striped shirt. The two of them were watching his approach, disdain clear on their faces as he slowed, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. The larger of the two-

( ** _'The AMAZING Wolfgang! The Strongest Man in the World!'_** )

-Stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest. The look on his face spoke volumes, his eyes a hollow mirror of William's niece. "You no go through."

William stopped short of them, out of reach. 

The other man, the paler of the two, the smaller of the two-

( ** _'I present to you; Wes, the Man Who Lives in the Invisible Box!'_** )

-Followed after, his hands pressed against a barrier that only he could see. There was a sense of panic in his movements, rehearsed though they seemed, and his posture was strained. He turned to look at William, head tilted at an angle. It reminded him of nothing so much as a crow, inspecting something that had caught it's eye in the moment before it struck.

It was a rare thing for William to feel like prey.

The two of them took a synchronized step forward, Wolfgang's muscles flexing as he grunted, a displeased noise at the idea of William still standing there. Despite the obvious threat, he shook his head. "No, pal." he held up his free hand. "I'm not running away anymore."

_'The world is harsh, and you'll get nowhere in it by running from your problems.'_

The memory of the fear on Wendy's face as he sent her away bolstered something inside of him. "I should have stopped running a long time ago." he whispered, loosening his grip on the Dark Sword. "I started and then I never stopped. I ran to escape my life, to escape a limiting world. Even when I fell in love, I was still running." he held his arm out to one side, letting go of the sword and meeting the blank eyes of his former friends as it fell. 

Like that, with the sound of it being swallowed by some deep cavern, he could feel the drain on his mind leaving him. "No more running away." he stood up straighter, feeling more like himself than he had in what felt like an eternity. "Not ever again."

Wolfgang's smile, much to William's delight, was somewhat akin to the sun coming out from behind the clouds after weeks of rain.

"My friend!" Wolfgang's arms opened wide, leaving William with no choice but to accept his fate. The strongman's grip was just as tight as he remembered, cracking a good portion of his spine back into alignment. "You want go through?"

"I would appreciate it if I could." William nodded. "There are still a few things I must gather, the next gate does not come without a cost and I must see this through. There is someone very important to me on the other end of all of this." he swallowed. "A man I have wronged, but who I hope will allow me into his life anyway. But, as I said, there are things I need-"

"No no no, friend Will-yum." Wolfgang shook his head, throwing an arm around William's shoulders and leading him through the gap. "Is taken care of."

"...What?"

Wolfgang chuckled. "Gate is built, all needs is going through." he waved his other hand at Wes, who was skipping along beside them. "Purpose was make sure that Friend was Friend again. Maxwell is not Friend." he swung back around, tapping the tip of William's hooked nose. "Will-yum is friend. Magician Friend." the smile that was hiding behind his mustache was a distinctly pleased one, if the twinkle in his no-longer-dull eyes was to be believed. "Magician Friend lost his way, but I think is back now, yes?"

"I hope so." William nodded, feeling a blanket of familiarity settling over him. "I fervently hope so, pal."

Wes spun on his toes a couple of times, nearly falling into Wolfgang's side, then silently holding out his red umbrella. It was battered, but recognizable as the one he had used for every single rehearsal of every performance. When William did nothing but stare at it, Wes prodded it gently into his arm, then turned it around so that the taller man could take it by the handle. The mime nodded when the other man put a hand over his chest.

"You have never once been parted from this, Wes." William ran a reverent thumb over the handle.

Wes nodded again, a small smile pulling his painted lips lopsided. He gestured using it to defend himself, then pointed at William, motioning for him to open it and hide under it. "Quiet Friend wishes you luck," Wolfgang translated, patting the mime on the back carefully. Despite that, Wes still buckled slightly under the attention. "Wants you take umbrella, since sword is lost."

Making a decision, William nodded back, then tucked it under one arm and pulled the much slighter man against him. "It's my fault that you're here." he whispered before letting go. "I wish I could have put it all right." 

"I think, my Friend, that you have." Wolfgang pointed somewhere ahead. "Gate is ahead. Go now."

William turned towards it, taking a shaky step. "Thank you, truly, for everything." he spoke quietly, knowing that they would be gone when he turned around. As if in answer, a gentle glow lit up the woods, an outlined path formed by Wes's balloons. They were lit from within somehow, like candle-light lanterns, and the patterns on the outside only served to make the view more serene. "I feel as if I am Orpheus..." he whispered, keeping an eye on the canopy of trees above him. There were little glimpses of the shimmering night sky here and there, points of light so bright that he remembered them.

It looked like one of the campsites that they had used before the deal he'd made had doomed the entire circus. He remembered seeing these trees before, and that almost made sense.

At the same time, it didn't. 

This was an entirely different world, disconnected completely from the life that had been in his memory. The only possible explanation was- Oh.

"You two were waiting for a long time for me to find you, weren't you?" he watched one of the balloons move in a gentle breeze, like a quiet nod from the slight man that had loved them. "I created this part of the world, even power mad, and left you to roam it." he swallowed a wave of sadness. "I apologize again, my friends."

The very stars above his head twinkled, like the light in Wolfgang's eyes when he was pleased with something.

 

_-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-__-~0~-_

 

Wilson stared at his shadow in horror, watching as it clasped it's claws together.

"He's-" he twisted his own hands around, the meager power he had managed to summon to his true form fading away. His hair was a disheveled mess, flat on one side from resting his head against the throne, his clothes were wrinkled and mussed. "He wouldn't-"

It nodded solemnly, eyes closed as it rested it's clasped hands over where it's heart should be. "He will. He is. William Carter has judged you to be worth less than finally moving on with what should be his afterlife. You rate as less than nothing, and now that he's made his choice, you are going to be here forever." it frowns. "He played you, Wilson. He made you think that you mattered to him so that you would give him his last goodbye to his one true love."

"I-" Wilson swallowed the words that would have followed.

It made sense.

He felt his eyes slide closed slowly, the weight of it settling in his mind. Maxwell had pretty much been a master manipulator, hadn't he? He should have seen it coming. The man had, after all, chosen his stage name willingly. It wasn't like there was that big of a difference between William Carter and Maxwell. The only thing, it seemed, that was different at all was the matter of his spot on the throne. 

Now that he was free, he had his free run of the world that he once controlled. He could find a way out of it, back into the real world.

"And he'll just leave you here." his shadow finished the thought, sounding genuinely distraught. "That's why you needed to know what he's doing. You need to know to have an accurate assessment of your kingdom, after all." it gave him a half bow, and he noticed for the first time that it's feet were bare. "I could survey for you, get a better look at the situation, report back to you."

After a moment, Wilson nodded, swallowing the heavy feeling of betrayal. 

"Do so." he felt the summer heat that ran through his veins falter. Maxwell had turned cold over the years as well, he thought. Perhaps I should do the same. No heart means no weakness, after all. 

His shadow turned to leave, the coal black sole of it's foot in view when he called out. "And-"

"Yes, my King?" the shadow responded, not even turning around. There was something off about the posture, something that seemed oddly familiar. "You have another request for me?"

"If he makes a wrong move..." Wilson hesitated over the words. "If he does something that would put the world at risk, stop him. I do not need a renegade ex-king destroying what is now mine." he turned his head away, the only denial he could give in his position. "That is all."

Unseen by Wilson, the shadow's mouth was stretched in a dangerous grin, knife-sharp teeth on display in a bone chilling sign of approval. "Oh, yes sir."

With little more than a shift in the air, the shadow disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who would you believe?


	3. Tell Me That You'll Be Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Trigger Warning: Coerced almost-suicide attempt.

It was another gate in that William noticed it, lingering in the shadows and following along behind him.

The rustling in the trees normally meant that he had to be careful, because something was about to come find him, but this was different. This was something else entirely, something that seemed more intelligent than the animals he had populated the world with. If he focused on it, he could smell the telltale scent of grease and metal, the unmistakably tang of copper and something else that reminded him a great deal of one of the experiments he had seen Wilson working on.

William stopped walking for a moment, still pointed in the correct direction. 

The dowsing rod continued to hum, the forest around him as peaceful as it had been a moment before, but something was different. "You may as well come out," he called quietly, turning towards where he had last heard the noise. "I'm not going to hurt you."

There were a few more rustlings before someone stepped into view, and he felt a small smile on his face when he saw them.   
It was a robot of some kind, and it was carrying a branch like a defense. It warbled for a second, something that wasn't quite a word, and then it looked around, hefting the branch higher. A light appeared behind it, someone else wandering through the darkness. "I apologize if I frightened you." William offered, studying the robot's eyes. "I did not mean to."

"Not Scared." it chirped. "Worried."

The light behind grew closer, and the figure carrying it grew clear. The woman standing there, now with her free hand on the robot's shoulder, was older than William appeared to be. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun on the back of her head, and she reminded him of nothing so much as one of the librarians he'd had in school. "Willford, who is this?"

"Unknown." the robot replied, the branch in it's hands. "Personal Designation is Wx-78."

The woman sighed, then patted the robot's shoulder gently. "Forgive him, I've taken to calling him a name instead of a serial number." she cocked an eyebrow at William, peering over her glasses at him. "As for you...Who are you?"

Before William could reply, a deep cackling noise sounded from the opposite side of the forest, causing a shiver of fear to run down his spine. "My name is William, and we need to hide."

"Why do we-" 

She didn't finish that sentence, the sight of something behind him causing her to take Willford's arm and run back into the dense foliage they had come from. All at once, the hairs on the back of William's neck stood up as he felt something breathing on him. The power behind it was something he recognized, the familiarity of it making him sigh.

"You told me once that you could only leave the throne room if someone gave you permission." he hissed.

It chuckled, a clawed hand raking through his hair, a parody of affection. "Then maybe you should have followed the rules, Maxwell. The New King has given me permission not only to leave the throne room, but to take care of you should you present a problem." 

William tightened his grip on Wes's umbrella, turning on his heel to face the shadow. He nearly fell to the ground in shock when he realized that it looked like Wilson, a twisted smile on it's face that made the similarity end. "And I would say," it continued as he watched it, eyes wide and knees feeling weak. "That you have always presented a problem. In fact-" 

it cut off, putting the tip of one finger to the apple of it's left cheek. "I can't think of a time when you were not a problem. Even as the King of the Throne, you posed challenges that nearly ruined everything for us." It leered at him, the expression causing a feeling of warmth to make it's home in his chest. 

"Oh, look at that." it tsked, "The emotions that run between the two of you. Well, I'm taking care of that."   
"What did you do to him?" William snarled back, the umbrella shaking from how tightly he was holding it, his knuckles white and bloodless. "What did you say to him?" 

"I have said nothing to him besides what he needed to hear." it cackled again, a hand stretching out to tug gently on the chain that was hanging around his neck, the tip of it's finger sliding into the ring. "All he needed to know was that you were lying."

"I did not lie to him." Shaking his head, William stepped back. "You're the reason I haven't seen him since he let me say goodbye to her." it made sense, the time between now and then, the disappearance of the new King. He should have known, should have warned the man. "Let him go." he demanded, voice quivering as he rolled his shoulders. 

"Hmm." it tapped it's bottom lip, then grinned. "Shan't."

Without thinking it through, William jabbed the tip of the umbrella into the thing's chest, opening it hastily. He expected it to do almost nothing, to simply aggravate the creature and make it attack him. 

Which was why, when it let out a shriek and fell backwards, he was astonished to see a gaping hole in it's chest. It scrabbled madly in the dirt, trying to flee, and he let it, stepping away and heading out of the forest. "I have better things to do than to talk with you," he informed it, looking back only once and wincing when it's hair shifted into a combination of his own and Wilson's. "I have a man I need to see. I refuse to let you take him away."

"It's too late!" it shrieked again, words strained. 

Sighing, William shrugged. "That may be true, but I need to try anyway."

 

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The Throne room was dark now, the light that Wilson himself emitted faded.

William wasn't truthful, he knew that now. The summer in his veins was gone, taken by that realization. To be quite honest, he didn't know what he had expected: The other man had been the King for ages, much longer than he had even been alive, and he had grown into a master manipulator.

"A boon that he reveals himself so early." someone spoke, and he nearly startled until he recognized the voice. His shadow stood before him, a hand clutching it's chest as it rose and fell in shallow movements. "He attacked me when I simply watched him. I have come back to acquire permission to remove him from your world before he does any more damage." it bowed, a picture of perfect subservience. "My King."

"Do so." he whispered, looking away. 

Betrayal stung like nothing else he had experienced. It was only when he felt something settle on his head that he looked up again. His shadow was wearing a crown of flowers, and appeared to be placing on on him as well. "To stay sane, my King, one requires certain things."

Wilson smile gratefully up at his shadow, then sighed. 

"What plagues my King's mind?" the shadow asked, tilting it's head at him. It perched on the arm of the throne, weightless and insubstantial to touch. "Might I know?"

"I have...Reservations about attacking Maxwell." Wilson admitted, forcing himself to use the first name he had ever known for the other man. The usage made his chest hurt less, because it helped him realize that he had never known William, not truthfully. Maybe, he thought, I never did at all. William was just another of Maxwell's tricks, a flash of light and a puff of smoke that never led to a real fire. 

"You think he does not deserve it?" the shadow gestured at it's chest. 

There was a wound that would easily fit a tight fist into it, something that looked humanly raw on the surface with a deep darkness beneath. Strings of shadow stretched across the damaged area, as if trying to seal it, and it looked like a hole in the world.

"I do not know." Wilson whispered, his eyes falling most of the way closed. The flowers did seem to be doing something for his mind, and he welcomed it in the way a drowning man welcomes a rescuer.

"He attacked me senselessly," his shadow reported, ghosting a hand over it's chest again, like a nervous tick. "And I am certain that he would do the same to you."

The words circled in his mind until they felt suffocating, like trying to sleep with his face in a pillow. His shadow was right: William was not a person that actually existed, there was only Maxwell and Maxwell was not kind. Maxwell was a skilled liar, had years of practice and plenty of experience with sleight of hand. The kindness his shadow showed him was a gift in this world, a bright light of hope in the darkness. 

It had saved him from the worst of the monsters before, it would do so again.

"Do what you must." he allowed, letting his eyes close completely. "Do what you need to do."

Unseen by him, it grinned evilly, a hand rising to his hair to stroke through it. "Thank you for the permission, my King." it crooned the words, fingers curling briefly around the poisonous looking flowers it had placed on his head. The thorns were a bloody red color, as if soaked in the life that had once run through someone's veins, and the shadow petted them gently. It was a twisted sort of affection in it's eyes as it slipped away from the throne and out of sight. 

Wilson, left behind on the throne, sagged under the weight of the deadly flowers on his head.

"I wish," he whispered, hands clenching in their restraints. "That there were some way to reverse this. Perhaps if I never knew, my heart would not be pained as it is now." 

The words echoed eerily around the room, no answer coming from anyone or anything.

 

When his shadow returned, it had blood on it's hands.

Grinning, it gestured a bloody claw at him, splattering some of the red on the floor. "William Carter is no more." it hissed. The hole in it's chest was still there, some kind of black seeping out of it. "Maxwell has been taken care of."

"Hm." Wilson nodded, eyes half closed.

There were veins of black lining his face, the thickest parts of them starting at the points of the thorns of his crown, running down like a sickness in his skin. It looked somewhat like diseased lightning, like something that had crawled from the darkness and infected him. The Shadow smirked, not caring if Wilson saw it. "Are you going to say nothing, my King?" it asked softly, stepping forward to kneel in front of him. When it caught Wilson's empty gaze, the smirk turned into a grin.

Using some of the blood on it's hands, the Shadow started making shapes on the packed dirt floor, grand sweeping lines of something much bigger.

"Wha-" Wilson swallowed heavily, as if trying to clear his throat. "What..."

"I am simply taking measures to ensure safety, Sire." the Shadow assured him, dark eyes blinking slowly, his tone of voice like he was explaining to a child. Before, it's eyes had been like Wilson's, a brown so dark that they were almost black. Now, however, every last part of them was black, a light consuming darkness set within it's sockets. 

The shape it drew shone in what little light managed to reach back to their location.

If he'd been aware enough, Wilson would have seen the sinister design of the circle it drew, the lines that spoke of death and danger for any who came near when the Caster didn't want them. He wasn't aware, not even enough to register the faint shivering he was doing.

"Sire?" the Shadow stood, one hand coming up to rest on Wilson's cheek. 

Wilson's eyes rolled back in his head, his entire body shaking now. He slumped on the throne, the bonds on his wrists and legs the only things keeping him upright in any way at all. 

"Hm." it was with an entirely unpleasant smile that the Shadow patted his cheek and stepped back, humming the tune that was still playing off in the distance of the room. "Just in time, too." it's eyes changed back to how they had been when Wilson had first seen it, the glowing yellow lamplight eyes that were the only way to see it in the darkness.

Whatever lights were in the room vanished, the plants that supplied them dying in seconds as the Shadow consumed them. "Finally." it hissed, teeth glinting in the light from it's eyes. "A King who follows directions."

It left Wilson on the throne, each step growing lighter until it was floating.

 

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Breathing hurt.

That was the first thing that William knew when he regained awareness. Breathing hurt, his lungs going stiff with every gulp of air he tried to take. Being alive burned, as if someone had set fire to everything inside of his chest. His heart was hammering, his stomach felt like it had been turned inside out, his lungs felt shriveled.

He felt like he was dying.

"Hey." he heard someone address him roughly, their voice cracking a little. The stress of the situation was probably getting to them. "You're still alive, right? I don't want to have wasted anything on you."

William put a hand out, trying to balance himself enough to sit up.

"How about you don't do that?" the person asked, the sarcasm thick in their voice. "Your chest was pretty much hollowed out, I had to put you back together. Sitting up isn't a good idea right now."

He swallowed, the action taking far too much energy and concentration. "What-"

"I thought you were going to be a corpse." the person spoke again, pressing something against his lips. "I thought I was going to have to throw your dead ass over a cliff to keep it from attracting the hounds."

The thing against his lip turned out to be a cup, seemingly whittled from wood, filled with water that tasted clean. 

"Drink this," they urged him. "And then you might want to pass out again, because you probably need a bit more sleep. Don't worry, now that I know you're alive, I'll keep watch consistently. Had to make sure that the fire didn't go out."

With a small nod and a bit of noise, William did just that.

 

When he woke again, he could actually open his eyes.

It truthfully didn't help all that much until whoever it was that rescued him pressed his glasses into his hands, folding his partially numb fingers around them. "I figured that these were yours, thought I should grab them for you."

"Thank you." he managed to speak quietly, unfolding them and pressing them onto his nose in a move that felt more practiced than it had any right to be. He hadn't had to wear them since he'd made his original deal. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing, he supposed. Now that he could see, he faced his rescuer, his left hand tracing carefully down the somewhat rough bandages that wrapped around his entire torso.

His rescuer turned out to be a woman with black hair that curled out at the ends, her eyes wide and set fairly deep into her skull. There were black smudges under them, like she had not slept in a long time, and her own hands were clutched around something like it was precious.

"What's your name?" she asked when she noticed him watching.

William cleared his throat, offering forward a hand. "William Carter. You?"

"Willow Amadeus." she offered promptly, thumbs stroking small circles over the item she held. It gleamed in the firelight, proving that it was at least a little bit metal. "How long have you been here? I've seen some pretty reassured people when it comes to weird shit, but you seem completely relaxed at the thought that someone patched you up while you were unconscious."

"I have been here for...Too long." William hedged his words, trying not to frighten her. "Truthfully, I don't even know for how long."

It was the truth.

Willow nodded, her hands cupped around the small object. "That sucks."

"What is it that you're holding?" he asked softly, still testing the strength of the bandages. She had done well, had probably made them herself. It felt, also, like there might be a salve applied between the layers, and he could only feel lingering pains that made sense based on what he remembered.

She held it forward, the metal casing glinting dangerously in the firelight. "It's my lighter. It's all I've got left of my dad, and now I'm here and I don't know how. Fire seems like a good way to deal with things."

"Heh..." William took a deep breath, relaxing around it when he felt his body seize. "Going to burn this whole world down?"

"If that's what it takes to get back home." Willow's voice was soft, but there was a hidden edge to it, something that promised retribution for whatever it was that had dragged her here. "I like fire, it's more of a friend than some people I'm supposed to call friends. It's always warm, it's there when I need it, and it's beautiful."

"All very good reasons." William nodded, then frowned. "You did not happen to find my bag in the chaos, did you?"

Willow paused, then reached into the log she was sitting on. "I hollowed out one end of this thing so I could store stuff." she explained, coming around the fire to give the bag to him. "I think this is all of your stuff? There's a weird book and some kind of stick that kept making weird sounds. I had to make two trips to get both you and it back here."

Immediately, William searched for Wes's umbrella, curling a protective hand around it when he did find it. After a moment, panic set in and he dumped the bag out in his lap, ignoring the thud of the Codex against his knee.

A minute passed as he held his niece's notebook over his heart, eyes closed in relief.

"What is this stuff?" Willow asked, her voice still gentle. "Cause some of this is the weirdest stuff I have ever seen."

"The Codex," William began, eyes still closed as he breathed through his nose. "Is the book of spells I use to protect myself and others. The dowsing rod helps me find pieces to make the gate into the next layer. The umbrella is a gift from a friend."

"What about the notebook?"

His eyes finally opened, no longer the dark grey color they had been when he was Maxwell. The deep blue color shone in the firelight, a hint of amusement and sadness to them. "This is what I have left of my niece." he whispered, flipping it open to the last page she had written in. On that page, there was a name and an address

"Did she die?"

"No." William met Willow's eyes. "She woke up."

Willow frowned. 

"There are two ways to enter these lands," William explained. "The first way is to make a deal. The second is to fall into a comatose state. Those are the only ways, as far as I know."

"...I wanted to talk to my dad, one last time." Willow muttered, brushing her bangs out of her face. Really looking at her, William realized that she couldn't have been more than twenty. "I didn't know that the voice would trap me somewhere if I agreed. I think the only reasons I'm still alive are because my dad was a doctor and he loved the outdoors."

"There is no shame in missing your family." William shook his head, smiling at her as reassuringly as possible. "I don't believe that you did anything wrong, you simply wanted to see him again."

"What year did you come from? You have an accent I can't really place other than British." Willow wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her lighter into her pocket. "And all I really know about that is 'Pip pip, God save the Queen, tea!', so I'm sorry if I'm offending you."

"I went missing from the world in nineteen hundred and five, my dear." William cleared his throat. "Has linguistics moved on so terribly much?"

"...Holy shit." Willow unfolded, her jaw going slack. "Nineteen oh-five? Really?"

"Yes." William raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Last I knew, it was nineteen ninety-eight," Willow informed him. "And I've been here a while, so it's probably been even longer since then."

William swallowed the wave of fear that tried to wash over him. "Nearly a century?" he whispered, eyes widening as the fear won. "I have been missing for nearly a century?" he pressed a hand over his mouth, slouching his posture a little. It immediately hurt, causing him to yelp and sit up straight again.

"Yeah, probably shouldn't have just said it like that, shit, sorry." Willow rushed the words out, leaning forward to put a hand on his shoulder. "Still hurting?"

"A little." William clenched his free hand, the one over his chin. 

Willow leaned back, crouching down next to him, hand still hovering above his arm. "So, the year and name match up...I have to ask, are you the stage magician guy? I did a report on magicians when I was younger, and I chose to do it about Houdini and some stranger cases."

"I was a stage performer, yes. I traveled with a circus, a lovely vaudeville act." he reached down to pet the tines of the umbrella. "This was the favored prop of our mime, when he practiced his wire balancing act. I found him here, due to the stupid mistake I made. He and our strongman were together, and they were always such good friends." William smiled at the thought of them. "How- What did you use to treat the wounds? I was sure I was dead."

"I made a salve-y poultice thing that my dad taught me how to make. It's going to be hard to wash off, so just be aware of that." Willow's eyes were wide, almost filled with stars for how bright they were shining. "There's so much you know. You know what really happened in a vaudeville act."

"To tell the truth, it was not all that exciting, save for nights we were performing." William slid Wendy's notebook back into his bag, in lieu of no longer having his waistcoat. His shirt, though a little stained and slightly torn, was still serviceable. He frowned at it, fiddling with a cracked button, then shrugged it on carefully. It covered him, kept him warmer than if he had nothing but the bandages. "Performances were...Electrifying, in a way. Every last one of us stood side by side backstage, waiting for the moment that every person in that audience knew our names."

"It sounds exciting." Willow remarked almost breathlessly. 

"It was, when we performed." he made a small noise of distress at the splotch of blood that lay over his heart, in the middle of the torn fabric. It was where the shadow had shoved it's fist. "When we were merely practicing, however, much of the time was passed in dull ways."

She nodded, and he offered his hand to her. "If, by chance, I make it out of this place to where I intend to be, I will take you with me and tell you more about it."

"Oh, yes please." Willow gave him a stupid grin, excitement in her eyes. "I love researching that bit of history, I kind of wish I had been alive for parts of it. I always read, what little I found about you, that you had an assistant. What were they like? Did they have the same tricks up their sleeves that you did? I know a little about you, and it's not very clear record keeping."  
William's own smile faltered. "Her name was Charlie."

The pang in his chest hurt, but it was more of a dull ache now, rather than the sharp breathlessness that her name had once caused. 

"...What happened to her?"

"In the very stupid decision I made to get more power for the sake of performance," William looked away, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "She passed."

"She pas-" Willow's face drained of all color. "Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry."

"It is a healing wound." he shook his head, then fell silent. The fire crackled, the only noise between the two of them, and he stared into the heart of it. 

After a few minutes like that, Willow scooted closer, offering a one armed hug. When he nodded, she wrapped herself carefully around his shoulders, her thin fingers pressing not-so-gently into his skin. "Does that mean she turned into something horrible here? My dad was fine for the first few days, like he was before he died, and then he turned into a monster that tried to eat me."

"Something like that." William muttered the words. 

Willow nodded, then hugged him closer and sat silently.

 

William liked Willow.

She was brash, she was somewhat crude, and she seemed oddly fearless, despite all she had to face. As it turned out, she was eighteen years old, an orphan, and a bit of a fire-starter. The lighter was, at all times, either in her hand or her pocket, like a limb that she valued as more precious than the others.

Especially, he thought, that last bit of her personality. 

Willow occasionally dipped her hands into the fire, acting like it was just a game that she could play. To her, it seemed to be a game of how long she could stand the heat against her skin for, before shying away and hurting.

She was insane, but she had a good sense of the world, a good moral compass despite whatever else was true about her.

He paused in the midst of re-configuring things in his pack. It was a pity that she reminded him so much of Wilson. William sighed as he traced his fingers over the cover of his niece's notebook. He would much rather like her for her own merits, not the memory of the man he was chasing down into the under-areas of the shadow world. The furthest reaches of the world would not keep them apart, and there would not be a second instance of him losing someone due to his own mistakes.

Wilson would not become the next iteration of Charlie. 

As he packed his bag back up, settling the dowsing rod at the top of it and wiping sweat from his brow, he turned back to Willow. "I believe that this is it." he informed her, side-eyeing the constructed gate. "This is the last of them before we reach the underside of this world. Are you still willing to come with me?"

"Yeah." Willow nodded, one finger stroking the metal of her lighter affectionately. "I'm gonna go with you. You need to rescue your guy, I really want to try to go home."

William nodded, then turned back to the door and shouldered his bag. Taking a deep breath and holding it as he moved, he placed his hand on the door and opened it. It made a sound like a vacuum seal being released, and he reached back to take Willow's hand in his own. Despite the fact that she reminded him of Wilson, her hands were small enough to remind him of Wendy.

That thought, as the door pulled them in, was enough to make him hold her tighter.

 

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They were in his realm now, foolish people that they were. 

William and Willow, he could see, were looking around the room cautiously, the man's arm outstretched as he practically clung to the girl. He smirked, sliding closer, consuming the shadows that were cast as the room lit up faintly.

The Key was helping them.

It didn't matter, they would still end up dead on his claws. The girl shivered as he passed a little too close to her, her flesh warm against the cold of his. Her screams would probably sound sweeter than William's, and he would delight in causing them. She had managed, somehow, to patch William up after he had tried to rip his heart out. Either she had magic, he thought with a cruel sneer, or she wasn't quite as human as her deal had implied.

Human emotion, he decided as he watched them stumble slightly in the dark, William laying a protective hand on the girl's shoulder, was a weakness.

He would prove to them that it was a weakness they could not afford.

With a sharp-toothed grin, he curled himself back into a smaller form, compressing himself down until he looked different in a way that would ruin everything. The suit was somewhat uncomfortable, but it served it's purpose. 

Allowing light to flood their portion of the room, he stepped out of the comforting darkness and whistled. The noise cut through their mutterings, and William's eyes landed on him, the man's face a dead white color that could have him confused with a corpse. "That is not- There is no possible way that this is possible."

"It's possible, Pal." he shot back, drawing a cigar out of thin air and lighting it with the tips of his fingers. With that done, he took a deep drag off of it, blowing the smoke out as he blurred around the edges and stood in front of them. "Whether you like it or not, this is actually happening." he leaned in close, a hand lashing out and catching William's chin. "You gave me a name, how about you use it? The Amazing Maxwell, wasn't it? The greatest magician in the world!" he sneered again, his lips curling in distaste. "What a prideful creature you are. What other boasts have you made that got people killed?"

"I did not." William spoke quietly, his hands curling tightly around the handle of his umbrella. "And I named myself Maxwell."

Maxwell took another drag off the cigar, blowing the smoke in the man's face. "You named me," he chuckled. "And you got Charlie killed. That is all you have ever been good for, Carter. You got Charlie killed and you got Wes and Wolfgang trapped here for the rest of eternity." he jerked the man's chin around so harshly that he thought for a moment he might have actually broken his neck. "And now, with the loss of your niece weighing on you, you've dragged another young girl into this world because of your mistakes."

He could feel William trembling now, could practically smell the misery wafting off of him.

"And-" he leaned in close, dragged the tip of his nose across the shell of the man's ear. "You've gone and dragged Wilson into this. Maybe the reason you've not seen him since he had you say goodbye to her was because you disgust him. You came on too strong and now he's busy, far away where you'll never find him." his lips curled up in a smug smile. "You disgusting little monster."

"I-" William licked his lips. "I...You're right." his eyes slipped closed, his hands going slack. The umbrella hit the ground and then snapped in half as Maxwell stepped on it. "I am a degenerate. I don't deserve to...I deserve nothing."

"You've got that right, Pal." Maxwell let go of William's chin, leaving behind pinpricks of blood on the pale skin. Reaching back, he drew a short dagger out of the shadows, a wicked looking thing with an amethyst skull set into the handle. "Now, you're going to do what we all know needs to be done, and you're going to do it immediately. We all know that this is what you deserve. Nothing more, nothing less."

William took it, then pressed the tip of it against his chest, poised to stab himself in the heart. "Yes." The look on his face almost spoke of relief. 

"You're done now." 

"I am." William nodded, his bottom lip quivering with each breath he took. 

Maxwell smirked, clenching his cigar between his teeth. William's grip tightened on the knife, his face relaxing as he prepared to shove it into his heart.

"I am so sorry, Wilson." William whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's the third chapter...
> 
> You wanna tell me what you think of it? I would like to know if I'm completely failing as a writer, and it would help to know whether or not this is liked by people.


	4. I Hold You In The Highest Regard

With a knife to his chest and a feeling of peace welling up in his mind, William let Maxwell brace him. 

The shadow put a hand on his shoulder, sliding it onto his back, the smoke from his cigar swirling out from his nostrils like a dragon's breath. It felt safe, comforting even, like he was finally able to let go now. He was done, he didn't have to do anything else. 

It was freeing, a complete serenity that encompassed him and put his mind at ease.

The man in front of him was never his enemy, had never wanted anything other than what was best for him. He knew that now, and he could, quite frankly, chastise himself for ever believing otherwise. Maxwell wanted what was best, and what was best now was his death, the end of everything for him. The knowledge was quiet, a concrete understanding that lay at the root of his entire self.

Someone cleared their throat.

The following flare of brightness seared into his eyes, forcing him back when the accompanying heat almost burned the first layer of his skin. When he finally opened his eyes again, Willow was standing there, an angry look on her face and her pose victorious. Her father's lighter was in her hand, the cap of it flipped back to allow it's use, and her finger was on the wheel. "What the actual fuck, William?"

Maxwell was on the ground, clutching at his arm and snarling something incomprehensible, an ancient language that took away all semblance of familiarity and kindness. 

Feeling a surge of anger, William stepped forward, his cheeks flushed with it. "I wish I could explain." he hissed, narrowing his eyes as he met Maxwell's gaze. "All I can say is that this bastard has too much power."

"Kind of got that," Willow huffed, stomping heavily on Maxwell's hand when he reached for them. "I'm gonna guess that something is different here?"

"The throne has been moved. Wilson should still be on it, even if this creature is mimicking how I once looked." William looked at the dagger that still lay in his hand, feeling his anger curl his lips back, exposing his teeth. The edges of the man were fading out, like he was trying to slip away, and he would not allow that.

With a grunt, he leaned down and plunged the knife into his shoulder, pinning him to one spot in reality and making him completely physical. "Where is he?" he asked, fairly calm. His tone was even, his face was placid, but the look in his eyes promised pain and instant retribution if he did not get the answer he sought. "Where have you taken Wilson? And if you tell me that you have destroyed him, I will tear you from this reality with my bare hands."

"You-" Maxwell's face was twisting in pain, the features rippling and changing. His eyes turned green, then blue, then settled back into the black that marked him as a shadow-creature. "I will never tell you."

"Hm. Really." William arched an eyebrow, then snatched the shadow's tie, standing up and ignoring the choking noises that followed. With a gesture to Willow, he started off into the darkness, following the deep furrows in the dirt that had resulted from whatever had happened. Maxwell snarled something soundlessly, his hands clawing at the fabric around his neck and shoulders every time William yanked on it. "Because I have a feeling- a very slight one, mind you -That Wilson is off this way,, and you've done something to him. The world rearranged accordingly, the keyhole following whatever it was that you did to the throne."

"Fuck you!" Maxwell hissed, all of his teeth elongating into fangs. 

William paused, muttering something as he looked into the darkness. From his hand sprung a ball of light, a miniature sun that lit everything up, exposing what it was that had been done.

Ahead of them was the Shadow Throne, the slim figure of Wilson lashed to it. He wore a crown of black and red flowers, thorns digging into his skin. Rivulets of blood trickled down his face, his eyes thankfully closed against it. Unwillingly, William gasped when he saw the man, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, dropping Maxwell to the ground.

The shadow's head hit the ground, causing him to scream out a combination of angry noises and furious curses. 

"Wilson?" William called out, taking a step forward. 

The man did not stir.

"He will not answer you!" Maxwell snarled, going to stand. Willow kicked him down again, stomping on the dagger that still stuck out of his shoulder. He cackled, laying still as she did, his hands curling up in the dirt like small mammals that had died.

William ignored him, stepping slowly closer until he was in front of the smaller man. Wilson's chest was rising and falling gently, like he was sleeping.

"Wilson, you need to listen to me, not him." William whispered, his eyes searching the other's face. The flowers were poisoning him, black slipping into his skin from their thorns. With a frown, William reached into his bag and pulled something out. The gloves he had made with Wendy's help, her neat little stitches forming a strong barrier between him and the world. He slipped them on, then pulled the flowers out of Wilson's flesh, nudging each one until it let go without releasing even more poison. "He is lying to you, Wilson. Whatever it is that he has said, whatever story he has told to you, he is lying.

"He has never spoken for me, not even when I held the throne you inhabit. He speaks only for himself, a selfish monster that twists your thoughts and ruins everything." William brushed a finger over Wilson's cheek, then risked leaning even closer, pressing their foreheads together. "Please, answer me."

"...William?" Wilson's voice was weak, and when he pulled back, the shorter man's eyes were cold. "No, you're not supposed to be here, you lied-"

"I did nothing of the sort." William argued, hand still pressed against Wilson's cheek. "He lied to you. The council of your shadow is never to be trusted in this land, especially not when all it tells you is the exact thing that makes you feel alone."

Wilson was shaking, his eyes wide as he tried to say something.

"Take your time, Higgsbury." William smiled at him, a gentle curl of his lips that softened everything about him. "We have time, if I am not mistaken."

He stepped back, then turned to face Maxwell. "As for you..." William slipped his bag off of his shoulder, digging a hand into it and pulling out the Key. "You want control of the people in this place so much?" he dropped his bag gently on the ground, stepping away from it and back over to the shadow. "Then that's what you're getting."

"What?" Maxwell frowned, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip. As if he realized what William meant, he shrieked, a harsh noise in the devastating quiet of the Throne Room. "No! No, you cannot do this!"

William shoved the key into his hand, then dragged him over to the keyhole. Before he could drop it, it seemed to magnetize to his hand, as if it sensed something was happening. "I can and I will, you sadistic son of a bitch!" he hissed, forcing his hand to press the key into the lock. "After all, it only seems fitting, Pal." He turned Maxwell's hand, which turned the key, and the lock released.

With a gasp, Wilson dropped off of the throne, landing heavily on his knees in front of it. 

The throne itself disappeared into the ground, reappearing back in the original position with the victrola whirring peacefully next to it. The former shadow hissed something, tugging painfully against the restraints that had trapped so many others, then looked over the back of the throne. "I will get out of here, one day!"

"Yeah yeah," Willow waved her hand at him, gathering William's bag in her arms as the man himself walked back over to Wilson. "I'd like to see you try, you dick." She watched as William knelt next to Wilson, a smile on her face as the taller man helped him up. 

"Are you alright?" William asked, his voice soft as he traced his eyes over Wilson's face. 

Wilson nodded, moving his hand to rest on top of William's as it lay on his shoulder. "I'm fine. You came all the way through the gates for me. You actually completed that whole mad journey." he frowned, as if something had occurred to him. "Why?"

"Wilson P. Higgsbury," William began, then sighed. "If I were not so enamored of you, I would honestly call you an idiot right now."

"What?" 

"I came to find you because I love you, and if I must be truthful, it is a most ardent love that will likely get me denounced and destroyed." taking a deep breath, William nodded. "I think that it must be impossible to ignore you, even if we had never made your first deal. I would have followed along for your entire life, just to see what happened to you." He relaxed his hands, slipping away from Wilson. "I realize that this must be an awkward thing, this emotional outburst, but I felt the need to say it and speak my mind to you."

Eyes wide, Wilson's jaw dropped slightly. 

"I am going to assume your silence means disregard of my feelings, and I will take it gracefully." William stepped away completely, going over to Willow to retrieve his bag. "I came to rescue you from here and put things right, and I have accomplished that. Whatever you choose to do, I will help you accomplish it." he turned away, headed for the gate again. 

"William!" Wilson choked the name out, hands clenching uselessly in the air. Finally moving, he stumbled as he ran over to the other man, looking very much like a newborn horse walking for the first time. The moment he was within arms length, he caught hold of William's shirt, pulling the bigger man towards him and down to his level. "I- Has anyone ever told you that you become loquacious when you're nervous?"

William's face was bright red now. "Was there something you felt needed to be added to that?"

Wilson sighed, then nodded. "Yes, actually." 

That was all the warning that William got before Wilson pressed their lips together, his hand curled into the fabric of William's waistcoat. Beside them, Willow was bent double with laughter, her hands clutching her stomach desperately. Eventually, he pulled back, breathing heavily and chuckling. "Do not take it as disregard. Take it as my mind rewriting what it has been told, allowing for the possibility of everything that might happen with that knowledge between us."

William laughed as well, his hands coming up to cup Wilson's cheeks. His thumbs circled over Wilson's cheeks, resting their foreheads together again. "I told you that he lied to you."

"Alright you two," Willow cleared her throat, gesturing towards the gate when they both turned to look at her. "Let's get the hell out of here. I want to get home, if that's possible, and I want to sleep for a week. If that's possible too." her cheeks were pinked, a mixture of embarrassment and happiness for the two men. 

"Yeah," Wilson breathed the word out, tangling his fingers with William's. "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's the fourth chapter. It is too late for me to try to be clever with author's notes, it is too late for me to worry about what sort of crap I might be posting, it is too late for me to think about it.
> 
> So I'm just posting this and hoping for the best. This, like many of my other works, is apparently going to be a long series, and it will eventually be a crossover. For those of you who don't like that: there will be a point that you can just stop reading and pretend I never wrote any more of it.
> 
> For those of you curious: it will be a Danny Phantom crossover, and I will handle it to the best of my ability.
> 
> Anyways, I hope that you are enjoying the Summerhold Chronicles thus far, and I hope that you might tell me what you think!
> 
> \--Krasimer


	5. Walk Out Into The Sun (And Hope It's Over)

The journey back through the gates was quick, each one only taking time enough to trace William and Willow's steps to the previous one.

Ascending was easier than descending, and with each layer that they climbed, Wilson's face took on more color. The shadows left him, his eyes returning to the soft hazel color that they had been when he'd started. William's hair was the grey-streaked brown it was supposed to be, and the lines in his face made him seem softer now.

Willow watched the two of them walking together, a grin on her face. 

With every step, their fingers brushed together, as if they were already used to being at each other's side. When some creature reared it's head, William would leap to Wilson's defense, the book that seemed to hold his spells already in hand. If she hadn't known any better, she would say that they had been together for years. They acted as if they had, the bond between them forged in metaphorical fire.

A hand waved in her face and she jolted, an embarrassed blush on her face. "Sorry, what?"

"I was hoping to ask you how much the world has changed," Wilson explained. "And also make sure that you knew where you were walking. It would not do to make it this far and then fall off the edge of a cliff."

William's hand was on his hip, his fingers tucked neatly into the watch pocket of his waistcoat. "I do not recall this area having very many cliffs, save the one that I dropped my sword off of." he cleared his throat. "And on that note, would you mind if we took a detour? There are people that I must see, if they are still here to be seen." he gestured at Willow, his smile almost bitter. "You should recognize them, if the research you have done is as thorough as I believe it to be."

"Wait-" Willow frowned, then nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind the detour, but who are they?"

"The Strongman and the Mime." William's lips pressed together, like he was trying to hold back a fond smile. "Wolfgang and Wes."

"Okay, so my question is, why are there so many names that start with double-u?" she looked between them, crossing her arms over her chest as all three of them continued walking. Since the plan was now made, they could all head in the same direction and know what was happening. "Seriously, there's me, Willow, and then there's Wilson and William. Wolfgang, Wes-"

"The woman I met in the forest called the metal creature that accompanied her 'Willford', and my niece was Wilhelmina, going by the name Wendy." William arched an eyebrow. "I must question the motives behind this gathering of people."

Willow nodded. "Yeah, that's kind of where I was going with that."

"It poses a question of the reason behind it as well as the reason for collecting the group of personalities that hold the names." Wilson added, looking up to meet William's eyes. "For example, the deal that brought me here was knowledge."

"...Mine was made for power." William's free hand tugged something out from under his collar and ran his fingers over it. Willow didn't get a very clear view of it, but it seemed like it might be an engagement ring on a chain. "I doomed Wes and Wolfgang, as well as- But maybe my deal did not doom her so much."

Pressing a kiss to the taller man's knuckles, Wilson shook his head. "I don't think you did doom them. As far as I can tell, it takes the making of an individual deal to bring someone here, or the loss of a conscious state. Wendy seems to have been an anomaly in these lands, and I think that the only reason she was able to travel here was because you acted as an anchor." he smiled up at William reassuringly. "If anything, that means that Wes and Wolfgang made deals of their own. It might be that-"

"The ones who control the throne took advantage of the train crash to force their hands." William finished, narrowing his eyes at the ground. 

The shorter man nodded. "Precisely." Wilson shook his hands free, standing on his toes to be able to put them both on William's face. "So you do not need to drown yourself in the guilt you carry. You can live with it, carry it all you like, but you do not need to hang yourself with it."

William smiled, clasping his hands over Wilson's. "I think that I will thrive with you at my side. You, Wilson Higgsbury, with a mind that is just as stubborn as my own." the moon glinted off the lenses of his glasses as he leaned down, pressing his nose into Wilson's wild hair. "You are wonderful in a way that I have yet to grasp how I earned." his smile fell slowly, something occurring to him. "How are we to reach the world again?"

"What do you mean?" Willow frowned.

"I mean, my dear, that I do not believe that we will be able to exit this realm without the last gate, something similar to what I had Wilson build." William shook his head, pulling back, his hands still tangled with Wilson's. "Such things are not easily replicated."

"And if we simply built one from this side, it would only lead back down." Wilson frowned as well, biting his bottom lip as he thought. "This poses a conundrum. I propose that we continue on with out back-tracking, returning to the surface as much as we can." he shrugged. "Where we go from there...I will work on that. It seems that, while I have broken my end of the deal, I get to keep what I asked for."

Nodding, William drew one hand back to pat his bag. "I still get command of the powers I asked for."

"Okay, so, first: we should keep moving, we probably want to get somewhere else before night falls." Willow interrupted, pulling the lighter from her pocket and turning it over in her hands. "Second: we should probably try to find those guys if we're going to find them."

"...What was it that you asked for?" Wilson peered at her, head tilted to one side. 

Willow shrugged, her thumb running over the half faded inscription on the lighter. "I asked for my dad back. You guys get to keep your knowledge and your powers and I don't get to keep him." she forced a smile onto her face, shoving the lighter back into her pocket and walking away, tugging her red sweater down as she went, settling it over her hips.

Pulling on William's hand to get him moving again, Wilson whispered to him, "I think- They would interpret a deal like that to mean she wanted him back in the real world." he went to call out to her, but William stopped him.

"Let her foul mood run through, then speak with her." William smiled gently at Willow's back. "I suspect she wishes to be angry right now, and we will be of no comfort."

"Even with good news?"

William nodded. "Even with good news."

 

With no trace of Wolfgang or Wes, they were forced to move on, the camp the two had obviously shared empty of all life.

Except, for some reason, an odd creature that seemed to be made entirely of fur and feet. The top of it's head opened, and when it heard Wilson's voice, it made a happy noise that had sounded for all the world like 'Poing!'. At first glance, it seemed like a dog, and Willow made a panicked face when Wilson stuck his hand inside what appeared to be it's mouth.

"Hello Chester!" he greeted cheerily, dropping to his knees next to the thing. When he pulled his hand back, he held something that looked like a bone with an eye set into it. "How are you doing? Are you being good?"

The thing lashed out it's tongue and slobbered over Wilson's entire face, causing the man to laugh. "Well!"

Willow looked like she might be having an aneurysm. "Wilson, are you sure you should be letting that thing lick you? We don't know where it came from, it could be dangerous!" she floundered for a second, then turned to William for backup. "You're not worried about this?"

"This, the thing in question, is a creature that is loyal to the one who carries the eye-bone." William informed her, a small smile on his face as he watched the two. "I was the king of this world when Wilson arrived, and I watched him find and name Chester. Chester is..." he made an amused noise. "Chester is living storage, and he is rather sweet." he leaned over to run a few fingers through the fur that covered the creature. "I take it that he shall be coming with us?"

"If we can, yes." Wilson hugged Chester close, a grin on his face. "I had to let him go when I traveled down to free you, he couldn't stay with me."

He held onto the eye-bone when he stood up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Shall we?"

William leaned down after Wilson stood up, pulling Chester into his arms. "For service beyond compare, I shall carry you." he chuckled as Wilson laughed. "He kept you safe, of course he gets to come with us if we can figure it out."

"He's actually really adorable." Willow added, craning her head back so that she could look up at William. 

"Of course he is," Wilson hooked his fingers around William's bent elbow. "He's Chester."

 

A few more days passed as they traveled back to the first world, the one that William had started in. 

The sun was rising when they got there, casting a brilliant yet soft light over everything, surrounding the world in a gentle glow. The only noise in the group was Chester 'poinking' along behind them, his purple tongue wagging with every bouncing step. Looking around, Willow rubbed at her eyes, a yawn big enough to make her jaw crack forcing it's way out of her. 

To their surprise, a door appeared as they got closer, the shape of it slightly different than the ones they were used to. It was also a fair bit plainer, like someone had used different materials to make it.

"Well..." Willow gestured at it, her face screwing up in confusion. "Does that in any way solve our dilemma?"

Studying it for a moment, Wilson nodded. All signs of exhaustion were gone from his face, and he let Chester lean against his leg. "Yes and no. It solves it by virtue of existing, as it means we can leave this place. The very fact that it is here means that we can leave through it."

"What's wrong with it?" Willow questioned immediately, looking over at him. 

William shook his head. "If there is a door, and this is not something I created, it means that there is someone on the other side who is attempting to enter. Doors open both ways, my dear, and we have no idea as to who or what is on the other side, only that they are attempting entrance into this world."

Willow frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's- That's really not good."

"No, it is not." both men spoke at the same time, sparing a fond glance at each other as they realized it. "I say we go through despite the caution." William continued, lacing his fingers through Wilson's. "We may never get this chance again, and if we enter it all at once, the group of us, we will not be separated."

Leaning down, William scooped Chester into his other arm, smiling at the tongue that drooped out over his wrist. "Are you coming, my dear? I would hate to leave you behind."

Looking between them and the door, Willow nodded slowly. "I'll probably never get this chance again." she whispered. Wilson smiled, holding out his other hand for her. "I just want to go home." she sobbed quietly as the shorter of the two men rubbed soothing circles over the back of her hand. 

Together, the three of them took a step through the door.

The moment they were gone, the entire world went dark, the proverbial final curtain on a show that ended long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the non crossover portion of this story.
> 
> I wish I could thank each and every one of you for reading this far, and I hope that you will continue to read the story and enjoy it. If a Don't Starve/Danny Phantom crossover is not your type of thing, then you can pretend that this ends here. This story can, with your imagination, lead to William looking up his niece's son when he rejoins the real world. 
> 
> When Willow gets home again, she'll find her father and her life waiting for her.
> 
> Wilson will follow along with William, and they'll grow old together, becoming one of those forever married couples. They'll have Chester, and they'll have each other, and William will use his powers to get them their lives back and buy a little house somewhere. At Wilson's request, it will always have a good view of the little garden that he insists on cultivating.
> 
> They'll grow their own vegetables, and life will be good.
> 
> If you do not look upon the idea of the coming crossover favorably, then this is where it ends: Hopeful.
> 
> See you next time,   
>  -Krasimer

**Author's Note:**

> ...Uhh...  
>  So, I am incapable of leaving things at ambiguous endings. You can choose to ignore this, but it is going to be a series that follows up on my other Don't Starve story.
> 
> If you liked it, would you mind telling me in a comment? I would love it if I could get feedback.


End file.
